Little Shoe in a Big City

One of my Christmas gifts this year was a copy of Sue Eenigenburg’s new book, Screams in the Desert, Hope and Humor for Women in Cross-Cultural Ministry. What a delightful, insightful, encouraging book! Sue gave permission for Peter’s Wife to reprint a chapter from the book. All 52 chapters are designed for personal reflection and group discussion. It was hard to pick a favorite chapter, but this definitely tops my list! Diane

Little Shoe in a Big City. . .Little Faith in a Big God

We were riding in one of the thousands of taxis in the capital city of our new host country. My youngest daughter had just gotten a brand new pair of shoes from her grandma. They looked so cute on her little feet. When we arrived at our destination, I got out of the taxi, paid the driver, and went on my way carrying Katie. As we were walking into the store, I noticed that one of her new shoes was missing. It had fallen off her foot in the taxi. I ran outside, but I was too late. The taxi was already gone.

I was so sad. We had just received those shoes as a gift from my mom and I had liked them. I thought about praying for that shoe; but I realized that with all of the taxis in the city, it would be impossible for that shoe to find its way back to us, so I dismissed the idea of praying and accepted the inevitable loss of one cute shoe. She would probably lose the other one soon and then her feet would match again!

I saw some co-workers that day and told them of this minor loss, but I couldn’t help feeling a major disappointment. It was the first time she had ever worn them–too bad we would never see that shoe again. She had only gotten to wear them for fifteen minutes or so.

Later that day, our teammate, Mark, was riding in a taxi talking to the driver. The driver asked him where he was from and Mark said, “America.” The driver was impressed with Mark’s Arabic and told him of an American woman who had ridden in his taxi that morning. She had also spoken Arabic. He then proceeded to hold up the shoe that she had left in the taxi. Mark looked at the shoe and told him he knew that American woman and the shoe belonged to her daughter! The driver asked him where she lived.

A little later, I heard a knock at the door. I went to open it and there was this man holding out my daughter’s shoe to me. I was speechless. I took the shoe and my husband came to the door with me to thank the driver.

Impossible. Too hard. Why even pray about it? It could never happen. All of a sudden, I became aware of the limitations I had put on God. He was showing me that nothing is impossible for him. Finding a tiny shoe in a city of eighteen million people–that’s about thirty-six million shoes–and having this one little shoe brought back to me in my own home was a simple thing for God. He merely arranged a few taxi rides.

Why did he do this? Was it that he liked the shoe, too? I think God wanted to change my viewpoint. He was disappointed in my estimation of him. I had little faith and saw a huge impossibility in one tiny shoe. God wanted to renew my vision, to see that I can trust him. If I can look to him to take care of little details like this, I can trust him even more with the important things in life!

The next time you are tempted to think, “Oh, that’s impossible!” remember a little shoe in a big city that came home to a woman of little faith who had a big God!

Lord, I know that you can do the impossible. Sometimes I get so focused on what needs to be done or the difficulty that I am facing that it appears bigger than you do. Enable me to focus on you and not on my circumstances, to begin with know who you are and then together we can face any obstacle. Amen.

One of Sue’s points for discussion is to write down an event in the past when God did something that you thought was impossible. How about sharing your stories with our readers? We can all be blessed as we share our own experiences and hear others’ stories too. Write to: editor@peterswife.org

Excerpt Reprinted by permission. Screams in the Desert, Sue Eenigenburg, 2007, William Carey Library, Pasadena, CA All rights reserved. For more information, check out the publisher’s web site at: William Carey Library

Comments

I love the story of the little shoe in a big city! I think God delights in changing our viewpoint- showing us our blinders and limitations, urging us to think bigger, trust deeper, look wider than we have ever thought possible.

Here’s my story!

We were in the midst of support raising. We had a wiggly 3 1/2 year old son, and an even wigglier 18 month old daughter. Though we lived on the West Coast, where we were finishing up grad school, we were raising the bulk of our support in the midwest. This meant transporting the whole family for several weeks at a time to visit potential supporters. Living out of a suitcase and a diaper bag was beginning to take its toll. We’d planned on leaving our toddler with my parents at the family cabin but once there quickly realized that my folks had aged since grandchild number 1, and it wasn’t a good idea to leave her there. This meant loading us all up in the car again and hitting the road. We’d just spent a good, but trying weekend in my husband’s hometown, crammed into a little motel room. My in-laws seemed even less equipped to care for the kids which meant they were with us all the time, even during meetings if there was no nursery.

I was feeling frustrated with the burden of being a family in transition. Every place we visited meant dumping the kids off quickly in the nursery and being whisked off to this SS or that meeting. Sometimes the kids were happy to go, other times there were the inevitable tears and whimpers, especially from our youngest. She wanted mommy. But mommy was now a PW wanna-be and had to freshen up the lip-stick, wipe off the cookie crumbs, and go be introduced to more people.

Then we left his home town and headed to the next city- clear across southern Minnesota. I didn’t remember the state being so wide. The kids were tired of being cooped up, we were tired of the “when will get there?” routine. We stopped at a lovely rest stop complete with a nature trail, woods, birds and places to run around. My husband was concerned we’d be late for our arrival- there was a banquet planned with a large group and we were to be the main speakers. We all needed the stop and our son begged to “go hiking!” We went. The air was clear, the kids jumped and played, the fall leaves flashed golden colors. Refreshed, we got back in the car.

However, the state seemed to get even bigger. We were running late and were going to have to get to the house we were staying at, drop off the kids and head to the banquet in about 7.3 minutes flat. Ever tried to meet total strangers, get settled in a strange house, change into something decent enough to wear at a banquet for 87 people at a hotel, and gracefully leave your precious bundles of uprooted children in the care of total strangers- in less than 10 minutes? (“No problem,” said my husband. “Men are clueless,” I said.) I tried prepping the kids by telling them we’d get there soon, but then we would have to leave and they’d stay in the house. They started whining. I started whining. I was upset with my husband, the work, the kids.

But mostly, I was upset with God. Didn’t He know how hard this was? Didn’t He care about me? About my kids? How was this ever going to work? How was this ever going to work once we’d actually left the US and reached our host country? I worried about my ability to care for my children in the midst of constantly changing circumstances. Yet I felt guilty praying about things that seemed so inconsequential in the big picture of eternity.

We finally reached the house. The host quickly greeted us, concerned about our late arrival, and reminded us we had to leave for the banquet shortly. His wife took the diaper bags, and said, “Oh, here’s the baby sitter. We call her “Grandma Ruth.”

From the family room appeared Grandma Ruth, who was, I quickly realized, the mother of two girls I knew from college. And not just any girls. The oldest had been my floor RA one year, kind, supportive and nurturing. Both were known as the loveliest, most godly of young women. Grandma Ruth beamed at me, scooped up my little daughter in her arms- with not one peep from her, and reassured me that the kids would be in fine hands. And they were. God used that moment to assure me that He always cares for His little ones. I had no idea that Grandma Ruth lived in that town or went to that church. I had only met her briefly once. But God picked the perfect, most practiced “Grandma” to envelope my children in love, and to remind me that He would always care about my family, and me.

This is the story of colleagues a few years ago, and again it relates to a taxi driver in one of Asia’s mega-cities.

The family took a taxi to the bus station. After they climbed on the bus and the taxi drove away, they realized they had left one of their bags in the taxi. The wife especially felt devastated, as the bag contained a Bible that her husband had given her as a gift on their wedding day. It could never be replaced.

They prayed that the bag would be returned to them, and we prayed with them. But many days went by, and nothing happened. Then one day the taxi arrived back at the guest house from which they had embarked for their journey. In the driver’s hand was their missing bag! Why the delay? After he left the bus station, he had been involved in an accident and was laid up with an injury for several days. It wasn’t till he got back to his taxi that he discovered this bag. The amazing thing was that he remembered the place where he had picked up the family and was able to find it again so he could return their bag! What unusual honesty was involved in this effort!

When my daughter was about 2 years old I was packing to go on a family holiday. Due to a skin problem on my hands I had not been wearing my wedding and engagement rings daily, but had put them out to take with me… unfortunately in a place where she could reach them. You guessed it–they went missing, and the front door was open.

As I looked out on the driveway I scanned with dismay the long pile of leaves from the trimmed hedge…or maybe they had been dropped on the lawn.

“Where did you put Mummy’s rings?” I asked her over and over but she didn’t seem to know. I searched and searched. When my husband came home from work expecting me to be ready to go, he joined the search. With great disappointment and a sense of emotional loss, we were about to give up.

It occurred to us then that the Lord knew where they were! We stopped and prayed asking him to reveal it to us. Within moments I remembered how our daughter used to stand on a tree stump and sing, “I’m the king of the castle!” There at the base of the stump were the rings!

Since then, whenever we can’t find things, we pray and ask the Lord to help us, and he does. He knows where we are, and where things are too!